Until I met you
by Prowlgirl
Summary: Falcon Graves avoided two types of people: those who cheat and those who are only interested in frivolities. It was a pity that he now worked for Mark Beaks, who could be considered a perfect fusion of both types. WARNING: GravesBeaks (Falcon Graves / Mark Beaks) and possibly CrackBeaks (Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera / Mark Beaks).


I am grateful for scroogeislife and to all who have contributed to the wonderful Mark Beaks headcanon. Without forgetting those who make The Gravebeaks Week, here goes the promised fanfic justbirdfurrythings.

A special thanks to the-fire-kittys-main-blog who took time to translate this fanfic from Spanish to English. Thank you very much! I don't have words to say how happy I'm right now, you did an amazing work.

 **Until I met you**

There were two types of people that Falcon Graves detested in the existential plane: the liars and the frivolous ones. Very few people have deceived him and left unharmed in the process, his oldest clients knew this so they avoided doing something that could arouse his anger. The transparency when dealing with the falcon was the first one, because although Graves' work was illegal, he never acted under the subsoil. He always entered through the big door with his elegant suit made to measure and after a formal presentation with the motive of his visit, he went into action without deception, and everything was developed face to face without any blows to the back. As for frivolous people who were incapable of being serious about stuff, Falcon used to reject the jobs that involved having to deal with these type of individuals in particular, regardless of whether they were employers or possible victims of them; the simple idea of having to live with superficial beings who preferred to have fun rather than to work hard was something that made his insides burn.

If dealing with these types of people tested his tolerance, the combination of both types in a single entity made his tolerance disappear in a matter of seconds. _'Why did I currently work for a person that fused both things perfectly?'_ Oh yes, it was the handsome salary and benefits that Mark Beaks offered at the time or at least that's what he repeated every day. Now he was outside with the founder of Wattle who, without really wanting to, found new ways to his patience to the limit. The most recent way was related to the Technology and Innovation Convention of the current year based in one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. While Mark was in his lectures on the company's newest projects, Falcon would make rounds of the place to meet the potential competitors of Waddle and in due course take ideas that seemed to be the most promising to be "improved" in the near future.

What was the problem here? Well there was no problem related to their work; to him work was work and he accepted it. Graves' displeasure came from the fact that the gray parrot was constantly harassing him to go to the private beach of the hotel a month before the event with the pretext of becoming familiar with the place. It was a torturous week of constant persecution and hundreds of text messages and voicemails on his mobile phone which ended with the falcon accepting, all provided that peace returned to his life, at least for a time before Mark Beak's next whim.

"Mr. Beaks is in talk with the number one tester, if you like, you can wait for him in the designated area in front of it," the hotel employee said pleasantly.

"Thank you," Graves said, knowingly reminding himself that this matter was going to take a long time.

Minutes earlier in the hotel room Beaks had entered into a really absurd state of denial when he did not find his bathing suit among his belongings, leaving everything he had randomly packed in place. Graves did not understand how something like a simple vacation item could cause such a reaction in his boss, he acted even worse than the time he ran out of cell phones during his last visit to his private island.

Ten minutes became fifteen, then twenty, and eventually Falcon started to become aggravated. Surely Beaks was taking selfies with what swimsuits he liked so he could share it with his thousands of followers. The falcon really was not clear on how the young billionaire enjoyed the attention of complete strangers in social networks, however, if one this is for sure it's that he hated people making him wait due to foreign shallowness.

"Excuse me," Graves spoke to the clerk who had previously spoke to him.

"What I can help you with?" the boy asked smiling.

"How many articles of clothing is Mr. Beaks trying on?" said Graves without stopping to looking in the direction of the test room where his boss was.

"You see, Mr. Beaks asked to try on all the swimsuits that would fit his size," the employee replied nervously, noticing that the man's face was beginning to show signs of anger.

"And how much is that?" asked Graves again, beginning to crack his fingers.

"That would be fourteen models ..., " the employee started, still smiling as if that could lessen the storm that was coming.

"Well, that's not so much in reality," Falcon said, relaxing himself for a moment, though that would not last long, as he observed how the employee raising his index finger with the little bit of courage he had left. "From what I see there is something more to add?"

"Yes sir, I told you there are fourteen models, however, Mr. Beaks also asked for the respective color options of each requested swimsuit." the subject spoke to the point of fainting.

"And how many is that?" the falcon asked, waiting for an answer that would only end up making him lose his composure, but at this point he decided just to listen.

The poor fellow swallowed before finally having the courage to give the final result.

"Seventy outfits, sir," the boy finally said.

"What?! Seventy?!" Graves exclaimed, opening his eyes wide.

"Yes, it's right sir, anything else I can help you with?" expressed the employee, completely pale, automatically with the the phrase that he had memorized as part of his daily work at the hotel.

"No, I'll take care of it now," Graves answered, squeezing his beak in disgust.

"I think I'll take my rest now!" said the boy, fainting just after finishing the sentence.

Ignoring the man on the floor, Graves made his way to the wooden door of the dressing room. 'What did that little inconsiderate parrot think? First he persecutes him incessantly to persuade him to live with him and when he achieves his goal he disappears. What a lack of consideration and respect for the time of others!'

"How much clothing are you going to try on in there?" asked the professional corporate saboteur, stifling the impulse to break down the door. He added, "Just choose something, for heaven's sake!"

"I just can not find something to help me," Mark said, excusing himself for his tardiness.

'Something to help you?' The comment seemed odd to Graves, but the discomfort he felt did not allow him to reflect on the intrinsic meaning of Beaks's words.

"Mr. Beaks, I've been out here for almost an hour!" the falcon exclaimed, trying to keep the volume in his voice.

"I know Gravesy, I heard you arrive" the youngest spoke with the relaxed tone that so displeased his companion.

"And he has the nerve to admit it!" exclaimed Falcon, clenching his fists hard before continuing. "Look, i forgive the fact that they conveniently gave us a double room to share.

"I told you that was a mistake at the hotel reception," Mark replied rhythmically, almost as if he were singing his response.

"And why did you not make a fuss over that? I thought things were always done your way?" said Graves, who had a good point.

"Yes, but we are not in Waddle. Here I have to keep up appearances." Beaks explained, in an attempt to convince the man who was waiting impatiently behind the door.

"Though I do that believe that is true, Sir can't hack what ever you want!" said the older and forget the formalities added, "Mark Beaks, I'm tired, just put on whatever...!"

"Whatever!? How dare you suggest that!?" Beaks inquired irritably at that recommendation.

"Are you going to leave or not?" Falcon replied.

"No!"

This was the last thing the employee was willing to endure and I had to make it clear.

"If you do not open, I will go up to the room with a double bed, which according to you, we were given by a mistake of reception, I will take my things and I will go home. If I cross the main door of the hotel, you will not see me again, and forget about asking me to accompany you to any place outside working hours, do you understand?"

There was no answer. 'I already had enough of Beaks's frivolousness at work as well as having to endure it in another environment.' It seems his boss preferred to spend hours in front of a mirror with his cell phone in his hand, instead of spending time with real people that were there, and did not pay him extra for enduring his nonsense.

"Well then, I'll go!" said the muscular saboteur bluntly, stepping away from the place.

Mark managed to open the door only to see how Falcon's back disappeared from his field of vision and weakly whispered:

"Gravesy, do not go."

* * *

It was not very difficult to pack, unlike Beaks, Falcon had only brought what was dispensable for a three-day stay. Yes, that's right, the youngest member of the club of billionaires had convinced him to spend all that time with him and to top it all he was about to share the same bed for two whole nights, where his boss would take any carelessness excuse to take advantage of the situation.

"Wait, Graves!" exclaimed the youngest, hurrying into the room.

Graves looked at him out of the corner of his eye. The young founder of Waddle was agitated and with his shirt badly buttoned holding a small shopping bag his right hand.

"What the hell happened to you?" asked Graves, looking askance at his boss.

"Stairs…" replied Beaks still very much winded.

In the damned elevator had climbed an unsupervised child who pressed all the buttons and before having to spend a half hour visiting all floors, Beaks got off when he had the opportunity and used what was left of the strength in his legs to climb what remainder of his way to their. After all, Falcon was worth the effort.

"Has Mr. Beaks coming to say goodbye?" the falcon asked, still not looking at him. "Or to apologize?"

Mark did not really want Falcon to leave, but he was not sure if he could share with him some of the most painful passages of his life.

"No, I can not!" expressed the other with difficulty.

"Yes, it was clear to me," Graves said, frowning.

"Just give me a couple of minutes, right?" said the gray parrot, trying to catch his breath.

"I gave you one hour of my life outside that damn tester," said Falcon, slamming the suitcase with his belongings.

"It was not an hour, it was fifty-seven minutes," his boss clarified with shamelessness as if subtracting three minutes from Graves's long wait made a difference.

"Goodbye Mr. Beaks!" exclaimed the other, addressing the doorframe decisively.

The situation had escaped his hands, if the gray parrot did not do something Graves would leave and would never have another opportunity like today. He had to do something, even if it meant resuming the pain he had repressed for years and embracing himself to get enough courage. He finally shouted:

"I can not let them make fun of me!"

"What?" Falcon asked confused.

"Just give me a couple of minutes," said the gray parrot, and after a continuous deep sigh, "After that, you can leave if you want to."

Seeing the glassy eyes of the younger, Falcon felt a twinge in his chest as if the pain that was eating Mark for a moment had transferred to his own psyche. 'And for some unknown reason I wish that feeling would never be repeated. This was definitely not frivolity, much less a hoax.'

"Are you okay?" Graves asked in dismay.

"I will be when you let me show you," answered the shorter one, trying to keep control of his emotions.

The falcon nodded and his companion entered the bathroom with the small shopping bag that until then had not had the greatest relevance. Graves began to despair, for reasons completely different from those of an hour ago: he was worried about Mark. For his consolation as the gray parrot promised him the wait on this occasion was short-lived.

"You can look now," Mark said, a little nervous.

Falcon was really surprised to see that Beaks was still hugging himself, although now his cheeks were flushed. He looked uneasy, had never seen him so vulnerable. He was only a swimming shorts with an opening that exposed the red and immaculate feathers of his tail and barely Graves felt this, he felt as if the savagery of his ancestors seized his sanity.

"Tell me bluntly Graves, I know I am ..." began the gray parrot, expecting a terrible criticism.

"The most beautiful thing I've seen," Graves added, enchanted by how attractive and suggestive Mark's rearguard was.

"But the feathers of my tail …" The parrot started still insecure, he is not used to positive comments about the part he usually hid from others.

"They are so exotic and sensual, believe me when I tell you that I'm trying hard not to make you mine on the bathroom floor."

Falcon found enough willpower to run to the wash to get his face wet. 'Curse! How did you let your thoughts turn into words?' He quickly left the bathroom and stood by the bed, analyzing whether he should leave with his hotel stuff at that moment or wait for Beaks to punch him in the face.

"Gravesy …"

The taller one turned slowly only to find Mark with his eyes beginning to flood.

"Mr. Beaks?" Graves said, not even waiting for Beaks to launch himself into his manly chest.

It was a sea of tears and it was then Falcon understood that Mark's affliction had nothing to do with what had just happened, this was something deeper, something that had managed to pepper his soul to the point of being a slave to an evil memory. He wrapped his arms around his thin body, hoping to calm him down a bit, but it did not help, Beaks was still trembling and the tears did not seem to subside. Falcon brought him closer to the warmth of his body and laying him down on the bed with him, began gently grooming the feathers on his head.

It was a touch so tender and delicate that Mark soon began to relax, it was almost like a sweet dream that the young man in his arms did not want to wake up, but he had to do so not to worry Graves. He was afraid to break again in front of the major if he tried to talk about an issue that obviously distressed him, so he chose the way that gave him the most security.

He took one of the backup cell phones he had in the first drawer of the mahogany bureau and wrote a message with surprising speed. Graves's trouser pocket vibrated instantly.

"You?" The taller one asked, although he already knew the answer.

Mark Beaks_10:35

'When I was little the other children made fun because the feathers of my tail were a different color from the rest of my body, so I decided to hide it.'

"I get it. So did you went crazy when you realized you forgot to pack your swimsuit?"

Mark Beaks_10:36

'I told you not to forget it, someone stole it!'

"Why would someone want to steal your swimsuit?" Graves asked wryly.

Mark Beaks_10:36

'Hey, I have many fans! From this moment someone will be auctioning my shorts online.'

" _Whatever you say_ _,_ Mr. Beaks."

Mark Beaks_10:36

'Could you just call me Mark? I want you to stop being so formal with me, I mean all the time and not only when you're angry like a moment ago.'

"I'll try, Beaks," Falcon said truthfully.

Mark Beaks_10:37

'Well, it's a start.'

"And you will not have more than that," Graves said, although deep down they both knew that could change one day.

Mark Beaks_10:37

'It's okay. Returning to the subject I had never told anyone about this. And I was really terrified of going out with a swimsuit like the one I'm wearing if that meant being exposed to everyone's eyes. I could not stand being mocked, not again!'

"That will not happen again," declared Falcon with determination.

Mark Beaks_10:38

'Why are you so sure?'

The face of the descendant of predators hardened and sinisterly sentenced:

"Because if someone dares to look at you contemptuously I'll use it as a punching bag until every bone in his pathetic body is fractured, no matter how much he pleads for mercy, I will not give him a truce and when he's done dust thinking that nothing in the world could go beyond his ordeal, I'll put a metal rod through him …"

"That's so romantic Gravesy!" Mark interrupted, pressing harder against the sculptor's chest.

"You must be the only person in the world who thinks something so horrible is romantic," Graves said, giving the thin bird in his arms a warm smile, glad to hear his irritating, tender voice again.

"Graves, can I ask you something else?" Mark asked to receive a slight nod from the one mentioned as a sign of approval. "Would you accompany me to the beach tomorrow? It will be easier if you are with me. I promise not to use the cell phone during the entire time we are away."

"Sure," the falcon said briefly.

"Thank you Gravesy," Mark said, feeling more protected than ever.

"And so you to know, Beaks I would have accompanied you even if you were carrying your cell phone" Graves revealed smiling.

"Then I can retract?!" the younger asked excited.

"Do not! What's said is said" Graves said, in front of a Mark Beaks who pouted and added, "Then since today we will not go to the beach, we can stay in our room watching movies and enjoying food all day".

"Did you say our room?" The gray parrot asked, his eyes fully illuminated.

"Yes, that's what I said," said the falcon, and added, "Unless you're thinking of getting me another one when there's a vacancy left."

"Do not dream about that, Gravesy," Mark replied, making himself comfortable in Graves's arms. He knew that they had taken another step in relationship and that really made him happy.

* * *

Meanwhile in the maintenance department of the hotel were a couple of scientists, working hard.

"We were lucky that they let us stay at the hotel in exchange for some maintenance work, are we not Dr. Gearloose?

"Of course not, this is humiliating! It's all the fault of those stinging vultures and their spending cuts!" Gyro exclaimed, without hiding his annoyance, he really detested those old birds and after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence added, "Where did Little Bulb go? He's supposed to be helping us here, that's what he believes it for."

Just then the little helper robot jumped out of one of the ventilation ducts.

"Look Dr. Gearloose! There he is!" Crackshell-Cabrera exclaimed, who could not notice the way his direct boss rolled his eyes in annoyance instead of answering him.

"Where have you been all this time? I've been looking for you for hours!" the head of inventors said irritably to his little helper robot. "What a little hygienic Little Bulb! Why are you bringing me someone's swimsuit?"

"Wait a moment Dr. Is it my imagination or those shorts have the Waddle logo?" Fenton asked, squinting to see better the garment that the creation of his boss had among his little ones his metallic hands.

"Not those fools, what's the Waddle logo going to be like," Gyro said, watching his assistant robot stretch the garment. "What the hell! Yes it is the Waddle logo!"

* * *

TO BE CONTINUE?

The story of how this writing started swimming like a Drabble, legs came out to become Vignette, and after three days evolved into One-shot and maybe one day mute in a Fanfic is long, so I will not bore you with that. I'll just say this is the merger of the first three days of GravesBeaks Week, so it has a bit of everything, but not enough.


End file.
